Six Birthdays
by Kiyoshi Dot
Summary: The sacredness of traditions is the one single thing Usagi has found that she can rely on – they are ever constant, settling around her shoulders, warm and steady, like Mamoru's hands when he wakes her from her sleep upon his lap on Sunday evenings.


On Usagi's fifteenth birthday, Makato gives Usagi a picture frame. It is smaller than Usagi expects one to be, fitting just a little longer than the length of her hand. There are small roses adorning the surface of the smooth wooden frame, carved gently into the organic flesh, shades of pink and crimson that wind and twist elegantly amongst tiny leaves. Makato tells Usagi that the colors of the flowers have been stained from the dye of once-living rose petals. There is a tinge of sadness in Makato's eyes as she says this, a wistful longing that tugs at the corner of her mouth. Usagi does not press her friend on the matter, she _understands_. Instead, Usagi runs her fingers over the embossed flowers, traces the raised edges with the underside of her thumb, and tells Makato very quietly, _Thank you._

Makato smiles and kisses her.

* * *

><p>On Usagi's sixteenth birthday, Ami gives her a round glass jar. It is filled with tiny origami stars, each one no bigger than two centimeters, a fanciful array of folded colors and decorative origami paper. There are traces of rose madder and cerulean blue, a deep amethyst purple spotted with flecks of gold peeking out from behind two stars pressed snuggly to one another – summer orange and warm sea green – so many colors that Usagi thinks she might go dizzy from delight. She cradles the jar in her hands, fingers curling up to gently touch the cool surface of the jar's<em> little<em> _pot belly_, as Usagi remarks with a giggle. Ami tells Usagi that each star counts as a wish, _One wish per month, Usagi-chan_, and that Usagi must not be careless and use up her wishes too quickly.

_There are thirty-six stars in there_, Ami says, and Usagi nods emphatically, but both girls know that Usagi will certainly not be able to last the year.

* * *

><p>On Usagi's seventeenth birthday, Minako gives Usagi a blue chiffon dress. It is the color of the sky, a pale blue hue that taints the summer skyline in the late afternoon, that short breath of time between five-eighteen PM and six-ten PM, when Usagi waits on the park bench for Mamoru to finish his weekly classes. The straps are thin, delicately curving over the shoulders and spiraling down the back to meet at the low drop of the waistline. Usagi touches the soft fabric, a ghostly whisper of contact, as if the imprints of her fingertips may be left behind to mar the precious material. Minako tells Usagi that someday Usagi will have a special occasion to wear such a fancy dress. <em>You'll feel like a princess, just like that first night at the ball when<em> he _secretly came to visit._ Minako presses her forehead against Usagi's, lips pulling back in a smile. Usagi blushes at the insinuation, the rush of memories from a lifetime ago, so distant, suddenly so fresh and vivid behind her eyes.

Usagi borrows a clear storage dress bag from her mother to keep the garment wrapped in for safe keeping, and hangs it in her closest, tucked carefully in the right corner. She writes on a post-it, _For a special evening_, and sticks it against the plastic sheltering cocoon, smoothing down the edges of the note with careful affection.

On Usagi's eighteenth birthday, Rei gives her a small glass vial. It is the length of Usagi's pinky finger (as Usagi is curious to measure) and inside is a tiny roll of paper, sealed firmly inside by a bit of cork squeezed into the top of the bottle neck opening. Usagi holds the vial between her thumb and index finger, lifts it close to her face and squints one eye as she tries to decipher the small characters inked into the parchment fibers. Rei tells Usagi that it is a special fortune Rei has made for her. She tells Usagi to never open the vial, because then the fortune will lose its sacred power. She tells Usagi to_ keep it safe_, and on those days when Usagi feels alone or unable _survive_ another day, to remember the fortune and know that it has already ordained Usagi's peaceful future.

Usagi's eyes glisten and she hugs Rei. She knows that her friend does not like to be hugged but Usagi ignores this fact, wrapping her arms around Rei's thin shoulders and whispering into the girl's ear.

Rei does not push her away.

* * *

><p>On Usagi's nineteenth birthday, she does not leave her room. Minako calls and Ami leaves a message on her communicator <em>Cheer up, Usagi-chan<em>, but Usagi is unable to will herself from her bed to answer them. She curls up on her side, beneath a mound of blankets that are too warm and too heavy but Usagi cannot feel the discomfort anymore, or at least, cannot bring herself to care. She holds the little vial of good fortune that Rei gave her the year before, tightly against her chest, and stares with lonesome eyes at the picture of her and Mamoru, two figures nestled amongst the tiny roses engraved in wood. Luna presses against Usagi's feet, tucked close to her body, and the doorbell rings downstairs, _Usagi! Your friends are here!_ but Usagi is beyond hearing her mother's call. The post-it reminder of _a special evening_ seems so distant now, folded and tucked in a box beneath Usagi's bed. The jar of stars is empty as it sits upon Usagi's dresser, there are no more wishes to be had, and its lonely presence lingers upon the couple in the picture frame beside it. Tsukino-san knocks softly against Usagi's door, _Makoto made something for you,_ and Usagi closes her eyes because she cannot bear to see the man in the picture staring back at her, smiling with gentle languid eyes, _Usako, aishiteru, _words Usagi begs to hear once again, words that cease to come.

* * *

><p>On Usagi's twentieth birthday, Chibi Usa surprises her by sitting beside Usagi's bed, knees bent on the plush carpet, chin propped in her hands as she watches Usagi sleep. Usagi awakes in startled delight, eyes opening somewhat groggily at first, before throwing her arms around Chibi Usa and knocking them both to the floor in a disarray of flailing limbs and tangled sheets. They walk to the Game Center Crown together, and Chibi Usa wraps her arm around Usagi's waist as they stroll down the summer streets. Chibi Usa is taller now, able to rest her head on Usagi's shoulder, and the older girl returns the affectionate gesture by keeping her hand tightly fastened around Chibi Usa's arm. The girls buy Usagi an ice-cream sundae, which Usagi insists Chibi Usa share with her; and after they are finished Chibi Usa announces that she must steal Usagi away for the rest of the day.<p>

They go to the Hinokicho Park, and the grassy knoll tickles at their skin as they lay upon the lush greenery, on their backs, faces pressed side by side, feet stretched out in opposite directions. The thick Tokyo humidity is enough to drive anyone to madness, but Usagi smells like summer peaches, sweet and slightly tangy, and Chibi Usa likes the way Usagi's long hair clings to Chibi Usa's fingers, gleaming like threads of gold in the sun's afternoon rays. Usagi reaches out and winds her fingers with Chibi Usa's, her hair sticking to both their hands, and Chibi Usa pushes something cool and hard into Usagi's palm.

_It's from the rock you found__ when you and Mamo-chan went to Atami Onsen._ Chibi Usa says, _He had it specially cut and set. You never forgave yourself when you lost it._

Usagi lets the pendent dangle above her, arm raised high, long fine-boned fingers wrapped in the delicate chain. The stone glimmers an erubescent rose hue, catching shards of light in its carefully cut and smoothened edges. A shattered kaleidoscope of colors spills down her arm, dances across her face.

_Demo, Chibi Usa-chan,_ Usagi murmurs, _Mamo-chan and I never went to Atami Onsen._

Chibi Usa smiles at this, softly, watches the clouds drift over head, slowly, languidly, as if the sky has become a lazy river, the clouds captured lily pads floating atop its surface. She sees a bunny in one of the white cotton masses; it twitches its long ears at her.

_You will,_ she says.

* * *

><p>On Usagi's twenty-first birthday, she and her friends meet for lunch at the Game Center Crown, the same place they have come to gather upon any occasion, dire or trivial, every year from the time they met that fateful seven years ago. Usagi holds firmly to these traditions, needs to be able to grasp onto <em>something<em> that is simple and unyielding, that will not be torn asunder in a world that is forever tumbling around Usagi, _down down_ like London Falls, that nonsensical English nursery rhyme that spins through her mind each time her world crumbles through her fingers. The sacredness of traditions is the one single thing Usagi has found that she can rely on – they are ever constant, settling around Usagi's shoulders without fail, warm and steady, like Mamoru's hands when he wakes her from her sleep upon his lap on Sunday evenings.

The girls buy Usagi a jumbo chocolate sundae, which is much too large for Usagi to ever imagine eating on her own, but Makato laughs and Minako jabs her spoon into a moundful of cream and chocolate sprinkles and pushes it into Usagi's open, protesting mouth. Ami has been gracious enough to not bring one of her many infuriating textbooks (the thought of school makes Usagi's head spin and she will _not_ have it, certainly not on her _birthday_) while Rei smiles at Usagi's elaborate insistence that they all share in the rather delectable looking frozen dessert.

Mamoru arrives at four-thirty-seven PM, and Usagi smiles to herself before he has even ventured into sight. There is no need to turn around and see who has passed through the arcade doors, which chime in their friendly announcement. No need to _look_, Usagi's body already _knows_, her nerve endings tingling and reacting to the familiar presence of warmth and possession, steady and reassuring as Usagi has always known it to be. He smoothes back the unruly bangs tickling her eyelashes, his fingers raking affectionately _back_, into her hair, nails scratching tenderly across her scalp, all of Usagi's senses coming _alive_ at the contact.

When he brushes a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead, Usagi's mouth goes dry.

_My turn_, he says, eyes smiling into her own, and he takes her hand, guiding her from the booth and to his side, where she belongs. Usagi blushes, manages a grateful _thank you_ to her friends before Mamoru has fully succeeded into taking her from them, out of the arcade, into the summer heat that instantly envelopes them with eager hungry fingers.

Mamoru's hand is a welcome press to Usagi's lower back, grounding her, keeping her feet firmly planted to the path she walks upon, _one foot in front of the other_, and easing away the tremulous doubts that still lurk in the corners of Usagi's fragile world. His mouth against her temple is enough to chase away the shadows, breath damp and warm as it traces the delicate curve of her earlobe, coaxing a giggle from her lips.

He drops her off at her house, informing her that he will return within an hour, and for her to wear something _nice_, because he has a _special _evening planned for her. The delighted smile upon Usagi's lips cannot be contained, even after Mamoru has (begrudgingly) released her and Usagi hurries with quickened steps into her house, up the stairs and to her room, the door trailing shut behind her with a soft _click_.

She pulls out the box from beneath her bed, the one keeping safe Minako's dress, carefully removing the post-it note and sticking it to the corner of her vanity mirror. She wears the pendent that Chibi Usa had given to her the year before, the one with the glimmering stone that Mamoru had specially cut for her last spring when they visited Atami Onsen over the weekend holiday. Somehow between the end of finals and the start of summer, Usagi had carelessly lost Mamoru's gift, a foolishness that she had never been able to forgive herself for. She fastens the clasp behind her neck, smiling to her twin in the mirror, and whispers a fond _domo_ to Chibi-Usa's fore-seeing gesture.

The jar upon her dresser is filled once again with tiny origami stars, _New wishes, Usagi-chan_, and Usagi is sure to tuck Rei's vial of good fortune into her clutch handbag, along with her senshi henshin broach. If there is one thing that lurks as a constant stark reminder to Usagi, it is that time and evil halts for no occasion, loved ones' birthdays and treasured anniversaries never bestowed special privilege. And so it is forever held close to her side, her beloved unwanted companion, a heavy weight held in the palm of her hand.

Mamoru takes Usagi to fancy restaurant in Roppongi Hills, where the waiters wear finely pressed suits and white gloves upon their hands. Usagi is enamored by the skyline view overlooking Tokyo City, a vast expanse of neon lights that flicker and dance for attention amongst of city throbbing of movement and life. Usagi balks at the prices on the menu and she leans over the cherry stained table cloth to Mamoru, her blue eyes wide and serious_. We can't eat _here_, Mamo-chan,_ she whispers, as if she has just discovered a dark and treacherous secret. He laughs, softly under his breath and reaches towards her, tracing the animated high arch of her brow with his finger. _Hush,_ he reassures her, _this is a _special_ night, remember?_

Mamoru orders Usagi an elegant desert, which is named in French and one that Usagi can _of course_ not pronounce. But all protests die away when Usagi sees the decadent creation lavished in chocolate, having what appears to be a chocolate spiral tower rising from the thick well of velvety mouse. Usagi laughs in delight when Mamoru pulls a candle from his pocket, places it in the center of the moist cake, and lights it, his eyes glimmering in the flickering glow of flame light.

Usagi has the remains of her dinner wrapped and then they are off to Hinokicho park (_Tradition, Usako,_ Mamoru reminds her with a knowing smile), a blanket tucked beneath Mamoru's arm. The summer breeze is a welcome relief to the Tokyo heat, persistent even in the late evening; it stirs against Usagi's exposed collar bone, soft and cool, sweeping _down_ between her shoulder blades and breathing against the naked patch of skin at her lower back. Usagi is caught halfway between the reflexive curl of Mamoru's hand around her hip and the heady thrill of feeling his heartbeat beneath her ear. He is talking, quietly, but the syllables passing from his lips are not settling into words that Usagi can decipher - all she can concentrate on is the way her skin hums to life from the vibrations murmuring through against his ribcage, the faithful rise and fall of his chest as he _breathes_.

He says, _It's time, don't you think?_ and Usagi smiles, not understanding but not quite ready to leave safe place of perfection, caught in the mantra of Mamoru's beating heart and flesh teaming with life.

He pulls away, slightly, so that he is facing her, knees still touching her own so that they are not completely separated. Mamoru takes her hands in her own and Usagi finds the seriousness in his eyes to awaken a tremulous uneasiness low in her stomach. She worries her bottom lip, tries to force back the looming presence of foreboding revelations and the eventual disappointment that is inevitable to follow.

_Mamo-chan?_ she whispers, her own voice a foreign sound to her ears.

_I'm sorry,_ Mamoru begins, _I should have,_ he stops, the corner of his lips twisting. He struggles for a moment, as if trying to find his balance, like teetering on a narrow cord that threatens to give way at any misstep, although they are both seated firmly on the ground. _I should have said, _he insists, _should have told you sooner -_

His hands tremble for a moment, his grip faltering for a brief terrifying instant, and it is then that Usagi realizes that, for all of his strength and quiet steady control, Mamoru may be just as scared as she is.

Mamoru is looking at her now, searching, as if her eyes contain the answers to all the questions of the universe, and it is all Usagi can do to keep her gaze fixed upon his own, offering all she has to give.

On Usagi's twenty-first birthday, Mamoru proposes to her. Usagi does not cry but stays very quiet as he tells her that he loves her and that he is _sorry, _sorry that it has taken him so long to do what he meant to that day in the airport, what he should have _finished_. He tells her that it was important for him to first complete his education, that he needed to make sure he could guarantee a future for her, could provide for her as a husband should, support her in all the ways she _deserves_.

_But I should have said something_, he labors, the anguish pained in his voice, _I shouldn't have left you wanting for so long._

Usagi pulls her hands away and touches both sides of his face.

_I've never wanted_, she says, _anything more than just _this_._

Usagi closes her eyes, feels the rhythm of his breath fall across her lips_, _the throb of blood pulsing beneath thriving, living skin cells,_ alive, yes,_ real_, not an illusion._

He kisses her then, firmly and desperately, as if he _believes_ her, as if she is his only source of life.

Mamoru slides one hand to touch her cheek, gently, traces the curve of her jaw, the downy flesh of her earlobe. He trails down the length of her neck, places his thumb in the hollow of her throat and it is only when he finally pulls his mouth away, breath ragged, that Usagi begins to cry. They are happy tears at first, joined by a shaky laugh that leaves her mouth trembling from its release. But then she is crying harder and the tears are suddenly impossible to control, causing her shoulders to quiver violently as she puts her hands to her face, sobbing against her fingers. She shakes her head as Mamoru holds her, murmurs against her hair soothing nonsensical words. When her cries do not subside, instead growing worse as they wrack her slender frame, Mamoru covers her mouth with his own and kisses her. He swallows her cries, refusing to release her, so that Usagi is left gasping for air, forcing her to either cease breathing or crying.

His gaze is soft when she sinks down, eyelids heavy, her cheeks ruddy and flushed.

_I won't go away,_ he tells her, a reassurance to the silent fear she cannot bear to utter.

Usagi nods, wearily. _I know._

_I won't,_ he says again, voice gentle and firm.

_Do you promise?_ she asks, a shuddering sigh spasming through the sore muscles in her throat.

_Yes, _he says, _I won't go away, and I will not die. I'm not going to leave you again._ Mamoru touches the corner of her mouth. Her lips are slightly swollen now, and he rubs the knuckle of his middle finger against the tender flesh, wet beneath his skin. _I won't leave you, I promise._

When Mamoru takes Usagi back to his apartment, his fingers tangled securely with hers the entire ride back, he brings her to the center of the living room and kisses her brow, once, tenderly. The apartment is bathed in darkness, but the lights from the Tokyo streets spill in broken slits across the carpet floor. He kisses her eyelids (the butterfly tremble of her lashes beneath his lips), and then her ear (a lingering whispered word) and then, finally, her mouth. He takes her by both hands and leads her into his bedroom and there he asks her, _finally_, to marry him. Usagi doesn't cry. She smiles, and tries to cover her face with her hands. But Mamoru presses his mouth against her fingers and Usagi giggles, falling back onto the bed as he gently knocks her beneath him, mouth warm against her ear, _Usa, marry me?_

He asks her forty-eight more times that night and each time Usagi gives him the same answer.

* * *

><p>The day after Usagi's birthday, he asks her once more.<p> 


End file.
